there's something about the summer
by miserella
Summary: Finn and Quinn hang around Lima after Rachel goes to New York. Summertime always did bring the most unexpected things. Post finale.
1. Chapter I

**there's something about the summer**

summary: Finn and Quinn hang around Lima after Rachel goes to New York. Summertime always did bring the most unexpected things. Post finale.

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**Chapter I**

**Sunday, May 27, 2012**

Ice cream, he's learned, is the key to getting over anything.

The whole tradition started when he had his tonsils removed back in the third grade. Finn's still pretty sure the only way he survived that time in his life was because of the ice cream. So then three years later, when Puck's dad skipped out on their family, Finn brought his best friend one of those really big buckets from the supermarket to make him feel better. The kid may have called him a girl and whatever, said he wasn't gonna eat it, but the truth of the matter was that they finished the entire thing in one go, sitting on Puck's roof as the sun went down and they heard his mom crying from below.

He used to buy his mom one of those ridiculously overpriced pints of Ben & Jerry's every year on the anniversary of his dad's death, until Burt came along and made her happy _even_ on those days. Now he just buys one for himself, because those days are still something he needs to get past.

So now seems as good a time as any to reach out to the old friend, which is why he finds himself inside the Dairy Queen just outside of Lima. It was the closest one to the train station where he…

He'd chased the train beside her, watched her _cry_, wondered what the hell he was doing forcing her to go when he just wanted her there beside him, right where she wanted to be, too. Except, like, watching the train pull out of the station along tracks that were leading right to New York City made him feel pretty proud, even if it also sucked. He watched it until he couldn't see it anymore, until he couldn't even hear it clicking and clacking on the tracks, and then just sat on a bench beside a sleeping old man before he left, hours later. The rest of their friends had waved her off and made plans to do something then left, but he stayed.

Once it'd started to rain, Finn finally left the station because there was no sense in getting soaked to go along with his broken heart. But being in his truck made him feel like he was watching something die over and over again and suddenly the rain seemed pretty nice.

A Blizzard sounded even better.

Finn doesn't even think about how weird it must look to be going in for ice cream while the rain pours outside and he wears a fresh pressed suit, but he does it anyway; in the end, it doesn't matter much because the restaurant is completely empty save for the people working behind the counter, of course.

Apparently that's still enough people for him to be judged by, because he's clueless on what flavour he wants and is looking over the menu when someone says, "You look ridiculous."

It takes him a second to realize the voice is directed at him. He looks away from the list of Blizzard fixings, and he's kind of blown away.

"Shut up," he says gloomily, which he's never really said to Quinn Fabray before. But she's standing there behind the counter at Dairy Queen and looking at him all amused, and she has no idea, okay?

But neither does he, because what the hell? Why is Quinn Fabray in a uniform that isn't a Cheerios one? "Wait. What are you doing here?" His eyes kind of squint which is the worst thing he could do.

Her face falls, all hint of amusement gone. "Shut up," she retorts, just as gloomily, only he's heard that from her a lot more than he's ever said it. "What do you want?"

Finn meets her at the counter. "You… are wearing a hair net." Quinn glares at him from under her dark blue DQ visor, which just makes him laugh. It feels really good to do it. She does that thing where she bites out his name through clenched teeth, warning him that she's about to kick his ass, so he stops it right there. "Okay, okay. I'll have the, uh, brownie one."

"The Blizzard?" she sighs. At his nod, she puts into her till and gives him his change back, at which point Finn's stopped being an asshole long enough to harmlessly take it from her and put in his pocket.

Five minutes later, she hands it to him over the counter and says, "If you tell anyone about this, I _will_ kill you."

He licks the plastic spoon that was dipped into the ice cream and bites back a smile. "Thanks for the ice cream, Dairy Quinn." He had to, honestly, and he doesn't regret it, even when she huffs and storms into the back in response.

It's all in good fun, but once he gets back into his truck, it all comes back to him. The pain inevitably sets in again. He gets four bites into his brownie Blizzard before he feels sick.

Finn forces the rest down anyway, and when he gets home, he throws it all up.

**Wednesday, May 30, 2012**

The next day is spent entirely in his bed. His tummy still aches, but he doesn't think he can blame that on the Blizzard so much as the fact that he doesn't eat anything all day, even when Burt makes his famous four-cheese lasagna for dinner. Finn knows he graduated and all, but he still wonders, briefly, if you can break your stomach when you break your own heart.

Two days later, Finn's still spends most of his days in bed, so after dinner, Kurt comes in; he doesn't even comment on Finn's sweatiness or the bags under his eyes, he just sits primly at the bottom of his bed and says, "So, Rachel called me."

Finn rolls over onto his back and rubs his tired eyes. The first thing he thinks to ask is, "When?"

"Just before dinner," he replies, and Finn blinks as he thinks about the past few hours, then furrows his brow. "I didn't hear it ring…"

"She called my cell," his brother explains, his hand motioning a wave, like it really doesn't matter. But it does to Finn, because that means she didn't want to encounter any chance of him picking it up and…

"What did she say?"

Kurt raises his eyebrows and sighs a little. "Well, nothing about you."

"Kurt, just—I don't think I want to hear it, then," Finn bites back, because that's exactly what he didn't want to hear. He knows he's the one who broke up with her and everything, the one who paid for the ticket and got her to the train station, but it's not like any of it was ever easy for him. He wasn't just joking around when he mentioned how he'd cried over the whole thing. It fucking sucked, watching your girl go off to take over the world on her own when you could be getting married to her and living in New York City. That life could have been perfect, but there was a reason why it wasn't going to be perfect for _them_.

Only he still fucking loves her and wants all that, so he doesn't want to hear about how the city's taken the place of him in her heart and how she already loves it there. He doesn't need to hear that she's moving on and making it big because he's not going anywhere, not yet.

"Don't be an idiot, Finn," Kurt scoffs. "It's been _three days_ since she left. What do you think she's doing? Running around the city with a smile on her face while they put her name up in lights? Please. She's good, but she's not _that_ good."

Finn rolls on to his side again. Kurt's right and that makes everything worse, almost.

"She probably didn't mention you because you broke her heart, so I'd get over whatever logic you have right about now," he says, and Finn takes a deep breath and he doesn't doubt that it's due to the sting of his brother's words. "Besides, it was brief. She just called to let me know she's safe. Thought I'd pass that along to you."

Obviously, he's thankful for that, and he tells him so. Kurt huffs a little and crosses his legs, then adds, "I can tell she's terrified, Finn, but… I think you did the right thing."

Finn doesn't say anything at first, but he's glad his brother gets it. "She belongs there, you know?" he finally mutters out, his gaze still stuck on the cowboy wallpaper across from him. He knows Kurt understands that much. Everyone in _Lima_ knows Rachel Berry is meant for the city. Finn couldn't be the guy that held her back, even if she wanted him to be.

Kurt doesn't even have to answer. "I don't want to be the jerk, but if you're forcing her to move on, I think you should, too, Finn."

There's silence, and then there's piercing, screeching, life-altering silence—and that's what follows. Then Kurt primly uncrosses his legs and leaves the room, leaving Finn to wish it was that easy.

**Thursday, May 31, 2012**

In the end, Finn rolls out of bed on the Thursday following Rachel's departure to, well, enlist in the army.

Actually, it's just the first step—meeting with a recruiter in Lima—but still; he gets up at nine in the morning as opposed to noon, has a bowl of Cheerios, then drives himself to the recruiter's office downtown, where he waits in line behind exactly one other person.

When he's called up, a tall, stiff old man with short grey hair and a grey suit introduces himself as Paul Williams, "but that's 'sir' to you, son."

So Finn calls him sir whenever it seems appropriate, like after each 'yes' or 'no' answer he gives during the pre-screening process. That part of it was made possible by his mom, whom he'd gotten all the information of his medical history from after he ran the whole idea past her and Burt. Still, Finn's pretty sure his mom isn't entirely fond of the situation, but she's still supportive, which he thinks is all expected from moms of eighteen-year-old boys who are about to sign their lives away to the U.S. Army.

Anyway, his pre-screening goes pretty well, in his opinion, which might not count for much. But he does get the smallest hint of a smile from Mr. Williams at the end of their meeting, therefore giving him the slightest thought that it's all _actually_ in motion. The man then says he'll send the report in to the MEPS in Columbus within the next few days and let him know the response soon after.

Finn stands from his seat and shakes Mr. Williams' hand, saying, "Thank you, sir. I really do appreciate it. Thank you," and leaves the office feeling like he's maybe got a foot on the ground, albeit a shaky one.

**Sunday, June 3, 2012**

That shaky foot tests him three days later, when he logs on to his e-mail account after dinner and finds an e-mail from Rachel. It only took a week, he thinks, but keeps that thought to himself, because the whole reason it took that long is—well, his fault. But he also restrained himself from sending anything her way because he kind of thought it should be on her terms, right? Like, he's the one that technically broke up with her and he didn't wanna step on any boundaries or anything.

In any case, she's finally reached him as per the unopened message sitting in his inbox. He opens it without any hesitation, reads every word twice. It's not long; it's actually probably considered short for Rachel Berry, but it's long enough by Finn's standards. It's long enough to say that she's happy to be there, and loves the city, and feels good about her future, but that she misses him.

It talks about how she hopes they aren't just going to end like that because it'd be stupid to put all that time together to waste, and anyway, she's not sure if she could make it through the summer if she didn't have him in her life to some degree. Of course, he can make sense of that and wants the same things as her. At least, in that sense, he does; but then, just at the end, she mentions that he can still move out there and they can be _happy together_, but he ignores that for now. His mind is a little more focussed on the way she signed off: "I will always love you," she writes, followed by her first and last name and a little star emoticon.

It's all so very _Rachel_ that it makes his heart physically hurt, and then his fingers move, rapidly, to write a reply. It's a rambling mess, filled with thoughtless spelling mistakes and run-on sentences and an incorrect use of the word 'earn' which he misplaces for 'yearn.' He doesn't do any editing on it though, because, maybe, he thinks, it'll have a touch of him that will make her heart hurt, too.

He bypasses any response to her proposal, but he ends his e-mail back with "Forever yours, faithfully," and "Finn."

After he clicks send, he watches as it loads and tells him it was received, his breath holding in his chest. He releases it in one deep, long exhale, shuts his laptop, and leaves, craving something sweet.

It's a nice, hot night for Ohio and he's wearing regular summer attire—khaki shorts and a white t-shirt—so he thinks he probably doesn't look so ridiculous walking into Dairy Queen this time. That's what _he_ thinks, but Quinn doesn't seem to, because she's working again and she's looking at him like he's an idiot. So, like always.

In that case, Finn just gives her a tight smile and pulls out his wallet, already knowing he wants a banana split. But Quinn says, "Tell me you didn't drive half an hour just to get ice cream."

"'Course not," he scoffs in response, slapping a ten-dollar bill down on the counter. "I drove half an hour to get a _banana split_, please."

"Oh, my God," is all she says with a shake of her head. Quinn still rings it up, though, and hands him back his change while she tells her co-workers behind her that she needs them to start on the split. Finn moves off to the side because someone's waiting behind him, and Quinn begins on the next guy's order. When she starts with, "Hi, welcome to Dairy Queen. What can I get for you?" as sweet as the ice cream they make, Finn chuckles, which earns him a bitter glare from her in return. He leaves her alone after that, until she hands him his banana split and says, "You know we close in ten minutes, right?"

Finn nods, even though the thought hadn't actually occurred to him. Still, he just takes his ice cream and goes over to one of the tables to eat it. Three bites in, he totally congratulates himself on his choice. The banana split is definitely hitting the spot. He's still taking his sweet time with it when Quinn comes out from behind the counter with a damp rag and a bottle of bleach to clean the table tops around him.

"Finn, we're closing. You need to go," she says, spritzing the contents of the bottle on the table beside his. He thinks there has to be something he could sue her for, if that bleach got any closer to the ice cream he's still eating. The thought quickly passes; he and Puck did enough ingesting of stupid things in their day. A little bleach won't kill him, he doesn't think. Anyway, Quinn starts swiping at a spill on one of the tables nearby, her eyes still on him. She's obviously being serious, but he's not really ready to go yet.

"What're you doing after this?" he says on a whim, his dessert still melting in his mouth as he speaks. Quinn makes a face. He forgot that she's disgusted by that, his tendency to talk with his mouth full. The great thing is, she isn't his girlfriend anymore, so she can't, like, stop talking to him for it now.

"Finn—God," she shakes her head at his poor manners and sighs. "I'm going home. What did you _think_ I was going to be doing?"

It's totally dry and sarcastic and he guesses she's kind of right; it's a Sunday night and Quinn usually takes Sundays easy 'cause of church and stuff.

"Let's hang out," Finn blurts, without the ice cream this time. Still, even after he hears himself say it out loud, he doesn't want to take it back. It doesn't sound like a terrible idea, really, only because he's bored and feeling sort of lonely after that e-mail from Rachel. He could call Puck if Quinn laughs in his face, but she's here and why not?

…Okay, so they haven't really been _friends_, ever. And he was a dick to her at prom (both years). He also dumped her in his truck after a funeral and let her go a little crazy that summer, but—Quinn's not really holding grudges these days, it seems.

Besides, they're both going to be in Lima until the fall, right? So they _should_ hang out. They've known each other for years now, dated twice, almost had a baby together, kinda. They should be friends, or they should at least _try_ to be. At least that's his opinion, because he knows he's probably not going to want to hang out with Puck or his brother all summer, so having Quinn around isn't a bad idea, honestly.

She, on the other hand, is not so sure of all that, apparently. "I don't know, Finn…"

"When do you get off?" he asks, because he can tell her mind isn't quite made up just yet.

She raises her eyebrow, all Quinn-like, then stops cleaning the tables altogether. "In fifteen," she says. The shop itself has actually closed, but Finn knows she has to do all the official business of closing up shop yet, so that makes sense.

"C'mon," he pushes, laughing a little when she does. "I'll give you a ride home."

His ex-girfriend exhales deeply with a smile of disbelief peeking through. That's probably there because, yeah, it's sort of a random, unfamiliar situation. "Okay, fine," she shrugs. "I _guess_ it would do me a favour at least."

Finn grins and puts another spoonful of liquefied ice cream into his mouth, swallowing it quickly. Quinn starts cleaning the tables again, moving on to one behind his back. Five minutes later, she tells him she'll be done in a little bit—she's just going to help Sandra with the till and get changed.

It's another ten minutes before they walk out of the store together and into the cool evening. On Sundays, they close at six like most places, so the sun hasn't set yet but the sky is taking on a pink and orange hue and the temperature has dropped from earlier, but it's still comfortable for him in his shorts and t-shirt.

This is what summer is supposed to be, so he says, "Looks like we're going to have a nice night, huh?"

Quinn nods in response as they're getting into his truck, and then the sound of buckling in and turning the engine fills the air. Finn left the radio on when he was last driving, so the truck powers up with some old '80s ballad playing on his favourite classic rock station. He instinctively turns it up, even though he knows he's about to ask her, "So, what's up with all that?"

She huffs, like she always used to do when he wasn't making any sense. He's about to make himself a little more clear—his question referred to her new job, which seemed obvious to him—but she stops him with an answer instead. "Trust me, it's not how I dreamed I'd be spending my summer."

Finn laughs a little, because who _does_ dream of that? "No one wants to work during the summer," he points out, which has her shrugging.

"True," Quinn agrees, a slight smile on her face.

"There's always a reason for it," he continues, pausing to glance over at her on his right. "So what's yours?"

She tilts her head to look at him with her smile intact, only it looks a little bitter now. "School," she answers simply and takes a breath before continuing. "Yale doesn't come cheap, you know."

Finn nods—he doesn't know personally, of course, but that's just general knowledge. "Right," he replies. It's just, the Fabrays never really had to worry about money as far as he remembers. Russell Fabray did well for a complete asshole. However, he also remembers all the crap that went down in junior year (all too well) and so he holds back on asking about her father. Finn honestly doesn't know anything about that situation anymore and he's not really willing to risk an awkward car ride. This is already weird enough, with how it _isn't_ really that uncomfortable. That's all sort of mixed up and it confuses him to think about it. "Okay, but why _Dairy Queen_?"

He's smirking a little, which causes her to roll her eyes, though there's no real irritation there. He makes a left turn and there's a commercial for some upcoming concert on the radio, but Finn's actually more interested in her answer. He isn't really surprised to see her quirk that famous eyebrow of hers before she tells him. "Thirty minutes out of Lima, Finn?" She laughs, but he furrows his brow, not really catching on. "I didn't think anyone I know would drive half an hour for ice cream. I hoped I'd be saved the embarrassment of anyone seeing me in a hair net."

She's teasing _him_ now, but honestly, all he does is laugh. The image of her in the uniform is definitely part of it, but it's not like he's going to tell her that. When she chuckles along with him, he actually feels like this might be okay, that they could be friends for real.

He's still not ashamed of his love of ice cream, though. "Well, I guess we both surprised each other, then." He never really counted on seeing _this_ ex-girlfriend working for her own money so she could get to Yale in order to pursue a career in acting. (Actually, the whole Ivy League thing wasn't entirely surprising, and she made him believe the baby was his, didn't she?)

"Yeah," Quinn laughs again, realizing the accuracy of the statement. "Yeah, I guess we did."

It's sort of like how it's still surprising him that they can spend the next ten minutes talking easily about the next song to come on the radio and that one time he sang it in glee, laugh about it, and then make some small talk about the rest of their summers. Both of them are hanging around Lima, but Quinn says she'll be working for the majority of it, obviously. Finn doesn't tell her about the army; the only ones who know are Rachel, Kurt, and his mom and Burt. It's not that he doesn't want to tell her—he just doesn't want to hear about how 'stupid' he's being again, because honestly, it's the only thing that feels right these days.

He doesn't need to ask for directions on the way because the drive to the Fabray house will probably always be familiar to him. It's just as he's pulling up to her house that he remembers all the times he'd done it before, picking her up for forced fancy dates or last year, when they'd hide out in her room because nobody knew they were together. Then, her house had always appeared to him as some huge looming mystery like all the ones in movies about snotty rich people. Now when he looks at it, it doesn't seem so terrifying. The light at the door is on and Russell Fabray's douchey Porsche doesn't sit in the driveway anymore. He can see Quinn's mom peek out the window to check for her daughter and the action definitely doesn't scare him like it did when it was her dad doing it all those years ago.

Even though it's just Quinn and her mom, Finn thinks the Fabray place actually resembles a home now.

Next to him, Quinn unbuckles then throws a smile over her shoulder as she moves to get out of the truck. "Thanks for the ride," she says, and he nods, brushing it off. It's no problem, really.

"Guess I'll be seeing you around," he adds once she's out. She responds with a, "Yeah, see you," as she's slamming the door, then makes her way across the grass to her home.

When Finn turns off her street, the guy on the radio says something about how it's supposed to be ninety degrees tomorrow and it's only gonna get hotter from there. Being a radio station, they throw in a weird sound clip after that sounds like a whistling kettle, and then the DJ says, "But you know what, kids? This summer of 2012 is gonna be a good one. I can feel it."

Finn has to agree.

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AN: Still not sure I'm happy with this, but I hope you enjoyed! Please review, if you can; I love to hear what people are thinking! I will be away for the next week so the second chapter may take a little while to be posted, but I'm going to get to it as quick as I can. Thanks for reading! xo M


	2. Chapter II

Obviously this is being posted way later than I originally wanted, and for that, I apologize. I guess I was just having too much fun in the Caribbean, but it's here now, so enjoy-and let me know what you think, as always!

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**Chapter II**

**Tuesday, June 5, 2012**

On Tuesday, Kurt tells Finn about the so-called party that the glee club is planning for all their members who are heading somewhere different in the fall. Finn's supposed to be the leader or co-captain or whatever (was; he's graduated now, something he keeps forgetting), but he's always behind on that stuff.

It's a really good idea and he's looking forward to it, but it's going to be weird without Rachel there. He knows Kurt thinks the same, too, but Finn has also caught on to the slightest bit of bitterness from his brother. Finn knows he never really belonged there, but Kurt did, does, so he understands why it kind of sucks for him to get rejected. He also knows that Kurt is still Rachel's best friend and it's not like it's gonna tear them apart or anything; he just wishes he got the same opportunity.

Finn sends Rachel an e-mail that explains all that, spurred by her mention of Kurt's odd behaviour in her last message. It's their third exchange in three days. Yesterday, they talked on the phone, and hearing the other's voice offered huge relief on both ends. Neither of them can tell if it's getting harder or easier to be without the other, to be restricted to communication through screens and frequencies. Either way, it still can't be considered _easy_, and they struggle.

They talk as if they're back at home, going to school and looking at the future as something they aren't living in for a while yet. But the truth is, the future is present while he rambles on about the new Assassin's Creed and she half-listens, and it's present when they hang up, eyelids closing on themselves. The future is happening every second they don't spend talking about what all this means, about the next year where she'll be in New York and he'll be working towards a life (eight years) in the army.

It's kind of like the entirety of the senior year they _did_ get to spend side by side.

Finn and Rachel are wandering down two different paths, unsure of their destinations, and while they're aware of it, they won't acknowledge it for fear of taking the wrong turn.

They're making an effort, though. It's just that everything feels out of their control, anyway.

**Wednesday, June 6, 2012**

The next night, Finn asks Puck what he's up to and ends up in the guy's basement with a joint in his hand. They're hanging out on the bean bag chairs they bought the last time they got high together, beer bottles on the floor beside them. The Nintendo is hooked up and they're on something like their twenty-sixth round of Mario Kart from tonight, but then Puck wins as Bowser again and Finn just decides to give up. He tosses the controller to the side and drinks from the bottle beside him, now cool and wet with condensation.

Puck picks up his guitar and tells Finn he's going to show him something. The next two and a half minutes are filled with a song, which Finn learns Puck wrote himself. It's all quiet when he's done. Mostly because it was really fucking nice and Finn knew his best friend was a good musician and all, but he didn't know he had _that_ in him.

"Dude, you're, like—you could be Springsteen," Finn says, sounding like he really means it. He does, in his state and he's pretty sure out of it, too.

Puck shakes his head, playing with the strings without much thought. He goes on to tell his best friend that he has a few others, but it's all mumbles and the notes that he plucks along the way interrupt some of his words. At the end, he adds, "Quinn thinks I should play 'em live, like, around Lima."

Finn barely hears him. He furrows his brow and questions, asking him to repeat, "What about Quinn?"

There's a drawn out pause, like Puck's not really planning on answering because the question didn't really have one and they're just lazy as fuck. Finn tips his bottle back and the cool bitterness tastes really good, he thinks, as Puck admits, "She kissed me."

The guy runs his hand through his hair, what there is of it, and seeing him do so causes Finn to do the same. They always get stupidly honest when they're like this. Like, the first time back in freshman year, when Puck got some bad weed from his older, stoner cousin—that was when Puck first let it slip that he wanted Quinn Fabray, even though Finn definitely had dibs. They actually sort of fought, as tough as fourteen-year-old boys can, until Puck played it off as a joke. And summer after sophomore year, they both got really fucked and actually talked about Drizzle, Beth, the _baby_. Everyone thinks that sabotaging the St. James kid after he egged Rachel was what made them okay, but it was definitely that time with the weed.

So sometimes this shit can be really bad or really good; Finn's not sure what this admission is.

"Shit, dude," he says, finally. Even if Puck wanted her to, it's still an adequate enough answer, because it's still shocking the hell out of him. "Are you guys, like…"

"Nah, man," Puck shakes his head. "We're hangin' out, but it's not like… It helped me pass that fuckin' geo test is all."

They both laugh at that, a little harder than necessary, and maybe the uncontrollable action is what propels the words out of Finn's mouth so fast that he's helpless to stop them.

"Puck, man, I'm joining the army."

Their laughter slows and then it's quiet except for the sounds of the Mario Kart home screen. Puck just blinks at him. Finn honestly doesn't know what he's going to say, but he can't really imagine the guy being upset or anything. They used to play soldiers when they were kids, and they still play Call of Duty, like, all the time.

Puck doesn't really say anything, as it turns out; he just starts laughing again, barely. He shakes his head, says, "Well, fuck. We're really growin' up, aren't we?"

All Finn can do is nod, really.

And then he can get them another round of beers from the crappy mini fridge they paid, like, fifty bucks for at a flea market once and Puck plays a couple bars of Born In The USA. He stops when Finn comes back with the beers, and the glass of their bottles clinks when they tap them.

"God Bless America, right?" Puck toasts, and they both wash down the lumps in their throats with the icy beer. Before they start another round of Mario Kart, Puck makes a joke, calling Finn 'Private Pot', which Finn insists really isn't funny and seriously, he's never letting Puck persuade him into blazing ever again. Honest.

See, the Army doesn't really like that kind of stuff.

**Friday, June 7, 2012**

The morning before the glee club has their party, Finn texts Quinn to ask if she needs a ride later on. He's serious about this friend thing. Mostly, though, he remembers from dropping her off that her red bug wasn't in the driveway, and he kind of wonders about that.

Anyway, Kurt's going with Mercedes, Sam, and Blaine, and Finn thinks it's a good idea that everyone's trying to carpool because there's supposed to be booze there tonight. That in itself isn't much of a good idea because last time, they all ended up wasted and there was the incident where Brittany and Santana threw up in front of the whole school, so… Yeah. He's never been much of a drinker. _That _whole thing kind of helped.

Anyway, he gets a reply back from her saying that she's got a ride up there, but thanks, and Finn realizes that ride's probably Puck. He doesn't know why it matters, though, so he just stops thinking about it all together. Instead, Finn takes Rory in his truck, where they definitely do a little air-jamming to some AC/DC. It passes the time it takes to get there, at least, because Santana had to insist on this place she went to for a senior year party back when she was a freshman. It's supposed to be really great and hidden away, but Finn wonders why it has to be, like, hidden _an hour_ away. Couldn't they have just gone to somebody's house or something?

Well, yeah, they _could_ have, but then they pull up and check it out. It ends up being this little clearing on the edge of a small lake, smack dab in the middle of thick forest and brush. The sun's setting once they all get there, reflecting pinks and oranges off the water and tinting the trees. It's actually kind of beautiful, and Finn thinks it's a lot better than anyone's soggy basement.

Once they're all there, the sun is finally dipping below the horizon. Finn and Sam start making a fire and by the time the embers are floating up towards the indigo sky, everyone's pulled out their liquor. It's innocent, though; there's no intention to lose control. They just want to have a good time, and that's what they get.

Of course, the night is accompanied by endless song—it starts when Kurt leads a slightly sloppier version of a song they sung earlier in the year, and everyone joins in loud chorus when they get to the party about being young and setting the world on fire. And so it continues throughout the night: there's some of The Boss (all Puck, with a nod to Finn) and the girls attempt The Spice Girls, along with many other bits and pieces that come together to sound like a misfit's melody. Finn can't help but think how different it'd sound (how different it all would be) if Rachel's voice was among them.

Honestly, they're all thinking it, but Brittany's the one to say it out loud. "I miss Rachel."

Everyone nods along and there's a moment of silence for their star, which kind of pisses Finn off, who wasn't planning on saying anything after that. Somebody would just worry, or something stupid. He guesses they aren't expecting it when he says, "She's not _gone_, Britt," and their eyes all fall away from him to look at the ground or the fire.

Or maybe it's just because it doesn't sound at all like he believes it himself.

When conversation starts up again and he tears his own eyes from the forest floor, he finds Quinn staring right back at him. It's startling, the look of sympathy, of _pity_, in her eyes. He looks away first, and then it's over; Mike announces a dance-off and they all get silly again. Apparently, it'll be a legendary showdown between Mike and Sam, but Finn's pretty sure he knows who's gonna win that one.

Most of them leave the campfire to go watch, but Finn stays put for a moment. From her spot across the fire, Quinn looks like she hesitates, like she's going to come over, but then she gets up and goes to cheer Sam's bizarre belly rolls on. So he just sits there alone for a minute before the fire feels too hot on his face and gets up when Tina calls him over to show off that dance move she taught him, the one that he still can't really do.

There's a lot more dancing and singing, drinking and swimming. Tears are shed, hugs are constant, and laughter is endless. There's one point where Brittany yells, "Skinny dip!" and leads a group of them into the lake, shedding their clothes as they go. Finn doesn't join them, not right away, because, well, he's actually sober and the water's probably really cold. Instead, he looks over the shore and the various pieces of clothing strewn across the gritty sand, straining his eyes to see the dark silhouettes of his friends bobbing about in the water.

He's not the only one who stayed behind, because up beside him walks Quinn, who gives him this weird knowing look.

"What?" he says, glancing between her and the lake.

She shakes her head and it causes some of her hair to fall out of her loose ponytail and around her face. Her cheeks are tinted and her eyes are slightly glassy, all of which he barely catches in the moonlight. Her obvious buzz makes him smile, because it's harmless; last year, she would have been an angry mess with a little alcohol in her system.

Now? She just seems… happier. It's kind of refreshing. He noticed this earlier, too, when she, Santana, and Brittany were doing some old Britney Spears routine and she laughed. Like, _laughed_, with her head tipped back and her eyes closed and everything. He could blame it all on the booze, too, but the fact that she's working at Dairy Queen and talking to him at all is evidence enough that she's not hanging on to all the things that made her angry before.

And, honestly, she's not screaming at him about being_ better _these days, so he definitely likes her like… this a lot more.

"You're not going in?" he says, realizing she isn't planning on answering him. Quinn blinks as she looks out at the black waves, then smiles at him. He immediately starts shaking his head at the devious glint in her eye.

"You have to come, too," she declares. Quinn starts to take a few steps out into the shallow water, but he keeps on shaking his head.

"No, I'm—I'm good right here, actually," he chuckles, shrugging at the sand beneath his toes. Even in the darkness, he can see Quinn roll her eyes at that. "Skinny dipping isn't something you do sober."

The blonde laughs at that, bending over to touch her fingertips to the water. She drags them along the surface as she protests, "_Santana_'s not drinking. Neither is Puck." Her face says that it's not much of an excuse; both of them are out in the water, lacking most of the clothes they came with.

It's playful, of course, but Finn's the one to roll his eyes this time. "Okay, skinny dipping isn't something _I _do, as in ever." He's still smiling as he watches her stand upright again to tread back towards the shore. She's eyeing him disbelievingly, but he's not in the mood to get wet, plain and simple.

Quinn probably doesn't see the determined shake of his head because she's pulling her pretty yellow sun dress over her head and tossing it on the sand to reveal the turquoise bikini she was wearing underneath. "Oh, come on, Finn," she cajoles, sliding out of her flip flops and leaving them on the beach. "You gotta have a little fun."

Finn kind of smirks and shakes his head, looking down at the ground as he thinks back. "I remember a time when you didn't know how to do that," he says, and maybe it's a little uncalled for, but Quinn doesn't seem to mind—he thinks it's because she knows it's a little true.

In fact, she just shrugs, smiling softly. "Things change," she agrees, then looks pointedly at him. "I think you know that."

Finn's not sure what that's supposed to mean, but before he can even furrow his brow in confusion, Quinn exclaims, "Well, suit yourself, Finn—I'm going in!" and takes off towards their friends, splashing about.

On his own, Finn just takes a seat on the shore and laughs at his friend's shenanigans in the water. He's not daft enough to think that this is going to last forever, so the whole thing feels… It's bittersweet.

The cool water must have shocked everyone into soberness, because once the gang is back on land and dripping water, the night seems a whole lot quieter. Everyone calms down, finds a spot in the area and settles there. It's getting late and they could leave, but they're just not ready to part yet. They're trying to make the most out of it, this one night, because this is it. This is the end, even if they try to make promises that it isn't.

Sugar, Rory, and Artie go for a walk along the shore, probably sorting out some of their leftover issues. Mike, Sam, and Tina roast marshmallows over the small campfire in silence. Mercedes and Kurt go into her car to listen to some Beyonce and cry about how much they're going to miss each other (Finn thinks, probably), and Santana and Brittany cuddle up on the beach with their flip flops kicked off in front of them. Finn talks to Blaine for a bit about the junior's plans for glee club next year, because he wants to be captain. The guy sounds like he has some great ideas and Finn's happy that the little club that could is going to be left in good hands—anyway, he knows Schue will take care of that, too.

Kurt calls Blaine over to Mercedes' car, so he joins them and then Finn's left alone on a tree stump where the water's washing up on the shore. There's a little dock to his right that reaches out on to the lake and looks like it could use a lot of repair; a couple boards are missing and slippery moss is growing on random sections of it, but apparently that didn't stop Quinn and Joe from sitting at the edge of it, legs dipped in the water. Finn doesn't mean to watch them, but he can't help it if he catches a second of Quinn hesitantly kissing the freshman on the cheek. It takes him by surprise, honestly, especially because Joe doesn't look surprised at all. The guy just sits there for a second, probably smiles or something, then gets up and walks back to the fire.

Finn has no idea about any of that, but it seems a little serious. So he just stays put, instead of joining Quinn at the end of the dock like he considered; anyway, his train of thought is interrupted by Puck, who wordlessly takes a seat on the boulder beside him where Blaine had been.

The guy kicks some sand in to the water, watches as it sinks beneath. Finn looks at him curiously. Puck clears his throat and looks back at him, eyes all round and shit. It's weird. "The other day, man—you were serious?"

Oh. Right. He forgot he'd even told Puck, so Finn blinks a couple times and looks back over the water. His forehead crinkles a little bit and he says, "Yeah. I mean—I went to a recruiter and… It's not like I've been sworn in or anything. There's still a lot to go through, you know?"

Puck nods with his elbows resting on his knees, hunched over and quiet. Finn knows he's not upset. It's just kind of a big deal. So Finn stays quiet, too. He doesn't really have anything else to say, anyway.

"This for your dad?"

Finn nods, because yeah, he's part of it. It's just that there are other factors, too. Like he doesn't really know what else he'd be doing (because he wasn't, isn't ready for New York. Maybe he never will be.).

And Finn knows. If there's anything Puck understands, it's dad stuff.

"I get it," he says, confirming Finn's thoughts. "That's, uh, that's cool, man."

Finn smiles off to one side and chuckles, just lightly. "Yeah… Thanks. You gonna do your music thing?"

His best friend sits up again and shakes his head like there's no way in hell. "Nah, that's all just a pipe dream. I'm doomed to sit around Lima and clean pools for the rest of my life, or at least until I get enough money to get outta here."

That's something Finn understands, definitely; the fear of ending up one of Lima's losers was something they'd talked about many times before. They both swore they'd never let it happen, so Finn thinks whatever Puck is saying is bullshit.

"You can get out, man. I mean, Rachel did—"

"Yeah, but she was _always gonna_, Finn. And _I_ was always gonna clean pools," Puck protests. He takes a breath. "Look, it's no big deal. Hey, if it all goes to shit, maybe I'll enlist, too. 'Slike real life COD, right?"

It's supposed to be a joke, so Finn cracks a smile, but it's really not that funny. And Puck knows it, but… That's how they're dealing with it. Finn doesn't actually mind because it means they're still the same kids who sliced open their palms with Puck's dad's old pen knife, shook hands, and both got infected the week after.

"Sure," Finn says, shrugging. There's no way, but he'll go along with it for now. "No one gets left behind… 'Specially in Lima."

Puck chuckles at that, nodding his head in agreement. "Damn right."

After that, Sam and Mike join them and the four guys sit there by the lake, reminiscing and remembering all their stupid inside jokes. It's not serious at all, and it feels strangely _good_ when Finn realizes he's forgotten that Rachel isn't there.

Honestly, they're just as loud a group without her now.

By 12:30, Finn decides it's time for him to head home. He's been going to the gym a lot lately in preparation for his physical screening—in case he gets one, anyway—and he wanted to get there early tomorrow. Besides, bed just sounds really good about now. Everyone's cuddled up by the fire, somberly talking about their futures and stuff, and Finn's not really sure what to say. He's hesitant about telling everyone about the army.

Rachel's reaction has a little bit to do with that.

Anyway, a couple of people have already left so the night's coming to an end regardless. Rory actually left with Sugar and Joe because of their curfews, and Santana and Brittany just kind of disappeared, which means Finn doesn't even really want to know where they went and what for.

Finn's following in their footsteps. Just as he stands up and pulls his keys out of his pocket, someone's already making note of it.

"You're leaving?"

Everyone looks up at him, watches as another one goes. Sam says, "Aw, Finn's ditching us, too?!" and a few others teasingly boo at him. It's all playful. Nobody wants the night to end, and his departure reminds them that it's inevitable.

He shrugs and nods, knowing fully well what everyone's thinking. "Sorry, guys. I have an early start tomorrow, so…"

The group of them keeps up their fun as they groan in jest, but underneath their rolling eyes are big smiles. Finn's smiling, too, but then someone—Quinn, he registers—pulls him away from it when she sidles up next to him and gently tugs on his wrist, saying, "Hey," all soft. He looks away from the rest of them and raises an eyebrow at her in question, and she smiles like she feels bad for whatever she's apparently about to ask. "Think I can get a ride home with you?"

It's silly because of course, he thinks so. But he can't stop himself from just blinking at her, then turning to look at Puck. If she came with him, why isn't she going home with him? But Puck isn't making any faces or anything, so he turns back to her and says, "Sure, yeah, of course."

So Quinn announces her leave as well and what follows is an endless amount of hugs and goodbyes before they start for his truck. "What, Puck not a good enough ride for you?" he jokes, his keys hanging from his hand.

"What do you mean?" she asks in return, obviously confused. So is he, now. Off each other's baffled looks, she continues, "I was with San and Britt on the way up here. They disappeared, I was starting to get sleepy, you were leaving… I didn't really want to wait around. So thank you, by the way."

His mistake; in response he just nods, tells her it's no problem. It's not, but he feels stupid for assuming anything (and doesn't know why he did). It reminds him that high school and all that came with it is dead, or nearly, and everything's still moving.

In the car, she looks through his small collection of CDs after she realizes what they're listening to is AC/DC and that's not really her thing. He can tell she's laughing at some of them to herself and he tries to look over and see which ones. Finn bets it's that Bette Midler one, which he didn't even like. "Kurt gave it to me," he defends, keeping his eyes on the road.

Quinn makes a sound and holds a disc up in the darkness; he can't see the cover, but she says (laughs), "Really? Kurt likes 50 Cent?"

Even he cracks up at that, and they're both laughing, but he is quick to explain. "I was, like, 11, okay."

Quinn slides it back into the pile to keep looking while she shakes her head, saying, "No, no, I'm not judging," but he thinks that's crap because then she says, "I just never knew you were such a P.I.M.P., Finn."

Oh, God. He's throwing that CD out as soon as he gets home. It's all still funny though, and he laughs along with her, even if it's at his expense. From there, it quietens down while Quinn seems to be debating which disc to pop in, but after a few minutes, the phrase that keeps replaying in Finn's head wrestles itself to the forefront of his mind, and he's powerless to stop himself from asking her about it.

"Hey, um. Earlier you said… We were talking about how things change—you, specifically. And you said I should know that. That things change, I mean." Quinn drops the CDs on her lap and looks at him curiously from the other side of the vehicle, prodding him to continue. "What'd you mean by that?"

Her gaze changes from curious to skeptical, like she doesn't believe what he's asking. It's just that he really doesn't know, and he guesses the blank look on his face is what causes her to sigh gently, turning her eyes away from him. "Well, I mean. You and Rachel had that whole plan, right? Marriage, New York, happily ever after. And now…" She trails off there. That's fine, because he knows, he gets it.

He doesn't think it, but he says it: "You're right," and it's surprising to hear the words come from his mouth. It oddly feels like some kind of acceptance, and yet he feels marginally uneasy—his eyes stick to the road and his hands grip the wheel, knuckles turning white. But Quinn doesn't say anything in return until he finally glances over at her, where he can see she's giving him the slightest sympathy in a barely-there smile.

"Bet that wasn't easy," she comments, as soft as anything, and that's when he releases a long breath.

He smiles, too, but it doesn't really mean anything. "You were always right, Quinn."

"True," she laughs, gently and hollowly. "But I meant… Saying goodbye. Breaking up with her."

Finn didn't even know she knew; there's no point in asking, however, because Kurt knew all along and that's explanation enough, really. He's glad, for once, that Kurt is a gossip—it means he didn't have to repeat the news over and over.

But he thinks back to that day, just a couple weeks ago; remembers how her crying shook the car, all those repeated "Wait a minutes" that spewed from her as she dealt with the shock of it all. "One of the hardest things I've ever had to do."

There's a few other things that make that list, like joining glee club, and letting Burt sit in his dad's recliner for the first time… Like accepting that he was going to be a teen dad, and forgiving Puck and Quinn when he found out he wasn't going to be one anymore, that it was someone else's job. Like breaking up with the blonde beside him the second time around—but that's not something he's going to mention. (It was harder than he ever thought it'd be.)

"I'm sorry," she whispers; he brushes it off with a shaking head and furrowed brow. What reason does she have to be sorry, anyway? She's the last person he'd expect that from. So he makes a turn on to her street before he replies with, "It had to be done." That's also the first time he's said _that_, but it comes out naturally as it's definitely true. "She couldn't go off and conquer that city with me dragging her down like a dead weight."

Quinn kind of scoffs at him and he almost can't believe it, but before he can say anything in response, she continues. "God, you're self-deprecating, you know that?"

Hell if he knows what that means, but her tone is half-sharp, half-teasing, so he just chuckles lightly, shakes his head, and ignores it. "Anyway, I think it was made worse by the fact that I had to tell her that—"

He just barely registers that he's talking about his break up with Rachel with her, which is, in all honestly, all kinds of weird (but not; because it feels nice to do so and Quinn is listening and…)—he has something bigger on his mind now. Something that should be bigger than any break up, he thinks.

"Tell her that _what_?"

It's right then that he slows up in front of her house, where the front light is on again and her red bug and dad's Porsche are missing from the driveway. It's strangely comforting, reminds him that this Quinn is different. Still, it doesn't explain why it's her that he decides to tell, out of all of them.

"Quinn, I'm joining the army."

It's less of a decision and more of the unrelenting desire to tell her _this_ something that few others know. Finn couldn't say where it came from, but there it is; and there's his future out in the open.

"Wow," she says, blowing out a breath and staring at the dashboard in front of her. Finn puts the truck in park and his hands fall from the wheel into his lap. He lets out a deep breath, too, and with it all the tension he didn't know he had is released.

"Needless to say, Rachel didn't take it very well."

Quinn bites her bottom lip and squints her eyes. "…Why?" That surprises him and he must show it, because she says, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't say anything. It's just… You know what you want to do, and I think you should go for it."

He's a little more curious about what she wanted to say, but he doesn't bring it up again. Instead, he laughs out of disbelief and nerves or something, saying, "I'm… trying. I'm nervous as hell, though."

Quinn grins, gestures with her hand that it's nothing. "You'll be fine. Great, even."

It's not that he expected her to be unsupportive, but her words of encouragement hit him in a way he didn't see coming. He must stare back at her a little too long because she says, "Ooookay, I'm going to go now. Thanks again."

He brushes a hand through his hair and nods; she's unbuckling her seatbelt and reaching for the door. "Thanks, Quinn, for… that. You know, I'd like to think we can be friends. It just _might_ still be possible after all the crap we faced at McKinley."

Quinn reads him blankly for a moment, but then smiles prettily in that sparkling way of hers over her shoulder as she turns to leave. "Well, let's see if it is."


End file.
